


The Night After

by hamstercheese7



Category: One Piece
Genre: Dubious Morality, Hurt/Comfort, Morality, Promises, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamstercheese7/pseuds/hamstercheese7
Summary: The first night after the Paramount War leaves Smoker and Tashigi not feeling very victorious.
Relationships: Smoker & Tashigi (One Piece)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	The Night After

The stench of cannon fire and gunpowder, so strong it burns his eyes, makes his throat feel like glass, swirls around him. There’s smoke everywhere, he can barely see, just able to make out forms running, falling, clashing. The screams are so loud as the ground cracks beneath his feet, a chasm opening up to swallow him and the countless masses around him whole-

Smoker sucks in a breath, his eyes jerking open, the smell of gunpowder is still in the air, still on his skin. His heart is pounding, the feel of it thrumming through his whole body as he bolts upright, his jacket slipping off his chest onto the ground. 

Something touches his back and Smoker whips around, his fist drawn back-

And freezes. “Smoker-san,” Tashigi whispers his name, her shape and face barely recognizable in the dark. It was dark. It was night. He stares at her for a moment, her hand still stretched out towards him. 

“Tashigi,” he mouths her name. The shaking starts then, as he slowly gains his bearings. He rubs a hand over his face, the adrenaline spike leaving him like a live wire. Smoker takes a deep breath, the smell making him feel sick but the rush of air is a balm to his nerves. He looks around, his eyes jumping from place to place. 

It’s loud, not because of anything in particular, it was just impossible for a place to be quiet when it was filled with the sounds of thousands. Rubble had been cleared from where he and Tashigi and hundreds of other soldiers had been placed for the night, but the concrete and stone was still cracked and sheared, too many spots where blood had seeped into the surface. Bodies moved in the dark, rushing to-an-fro, medical tents backlit in the distance. The massive walls still stood around the harbor, still jammed by rubble. 

Slowly, his heart rate began to slow. It had been nearly dark when he, Tashigi, and the remains of his contingent had been placed on the west side of the massive plaza. He felt as exhausted as he had when he snagged a flat-ish spot, too dead on his feet to see if there were any sleeping bags being handed out. As he looked around now, he noted that most of the soldiers around them had done the same thing.

“Smoker-san…?” comes Tashigi’s voice again. He turns his head towards her. He can make out her eyes, reflecting the light from the med tents. Her glasses are sitting on top of her head, the lens cracked. He swallows, as his eyes adjust to the darkness, turning the world around them to shades of gray. The shadows play across her face, leaving dark circles, a massive bruise is forming across her right cheek. She’s looking at him, concern pulling her eyebrows down and tightening the lines around her mouth. “Are you alright?” she whispers, her voice small and cracked slightly. 

Smoker turns away from her, taking in their surroundings again. He could make out the ruins of Marine Headquarters. Crews were still working to pull survivors from the wreckage. He watched the lights of rescue crews move like ghosts across the rubble. “Sorry for waking you,” he muttered. There’s a beat of silence and then, “You didn’t,” she shifts into a sitting position. He glances at her, and their eyes catch for a moment. “I… can’t sleep,” her voice wavers and trails off. Smoker turns his head to regard her as she pulls her knees closer to her chest. She’s watching the rescue crews now, a haunted expression on her face. 

The wind changes direction and blows the smell of gunpowder over them. He tenses up, his dream still too close to the surface. “Can’t blame you for that,” he rumbles. His fingers itch for a cigar, and he grabs his jacket heaped next to him, but looks up at the sound of pounding feet. They both turn and look towards the med tent, a bunch of medical personnel were running towards the ruins of HQ, carrying a stretcher. 

“Any word on how many of our men are still missing?” he says quietly. Tashigi shakes her head, and he sees her bite her lip. The urge for a nicotine hit rears its head and he resumes his hunt through his pockets. “We...lost so many,” comes Tashigi’s voice as he finds one, and places it between his lips. He didn’t have many left. His eyes slide to her. She’s pulled her knees all the way up to her chest now, wrapping her arms around them. “I...can’t stop thinking about how many of them were...needless,” she breathes out as he flicks his lighter. Voices screaming, pleading for help, pirates fleeing, the sound of bloodlust echoed in his ears. Smoker clenched his teeth, his eyes taking in the hundreds of sleeping marines around them, for a moment not able to recognize them. His cigar catches, the end flaring, heat rushing down his throat. 

“How many of our men were bleeding out that we could have saved?! I-I can’t...what were…” her voice is shaking with anger, her fingers clawing into her knees. He turns to look at her, as her feelings drag his own into the front of his mind, horror sitting cold and vast in his chest. He was called The White Hunter, but he’d never been that ruthless. He’d never participated in a bloodbath, never witnessed until just a few hours before the crazed looks in the eyes of his comrades, their faces stretched into nightmarish grins as they surged after the fleeing, utterly defeated and grieving Whitebeards. His cigar suddenly tasted like ash in his mouth and he put it out. 

“How could we have turned our backs on our own? We’re...we’re supposed to be better than that,” Tashigi’s voice is thick with unshed tears. And he wished he had an answer for her. But he didn’t, he had nothing to offer her. Her shoulders are shaking as he reaches out and pulls her to his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head. She freezes for a moment, shocked by his rare display of affection before she throws her arms around his waist, “I don’t want to be one of the bad guys Smoker-san!” she chokes out before the dam breaks, muffling her sobs in the sleeve of his jacket as he grabs it and wraps it around her shoulders. 

“Then we won’t be,” he says quietly into her hair. He looks out across the destruction around them as the medical team returns slowly, a body on the stretcher, their face covered. Anger cracks the horrible coldness inside of him. 

“I promise,” he vows, his arms tightening around her.

**Author's Note:**

> I was suddenly struck by the need to write this. I might turn this into a collection of reflections on the Paramount War from the perspective of the Marines. Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and you can find me on twitter @buggyisbest


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